


Turn On The Stars

by misaffection



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misaffection/pseuds/misaffection
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Camille takes Richard up on an offer to use his telescope...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn On The Stars

It’s a dark night; the moon is a thin crescent low over the horizon and casts little light over the beach. Not that Camille needs it – she could find her way to the bungalow even if she were blindfolded. The breeze tugs at her hair. She tries to tuck it behind one ear, but it’s a losing battle. She ought to have brought a tie.

There are no lights on at the bungalow, but she’s expecting that. Richard did, after all, explain it at some length, much to Dwayne’s amusement. She might have thought it funny, if it wasn’t for how much she loves it when he gets excited by something other than a murder.

She steps up onto the veranda, a smile tugging at her lips at the sight of him. The white shirt stands out even in the gloom, as he’s abandoned the jacket for once. He’s bent down and his trousers are pulled tight. Camille takes a moment to admire his backside. Well, he promised her sights, didn’t he?

“Eyes up, Bordey.”

“I was just looking.”

“Yes, I know.” He straightens and turns. It’s hard to read him when his face is shadowed, but she’s sure there’s a touch of humour in his tone. “I must admit that I didn’t think you’d come.”

She pauses. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Doesn’t seem like your kind of thing.”

“And what does?” She’s not sure why they’re arguing. Maybe it’s just force of habit. “You don’t know me as well as you think, Richard.”

He says nothing to that. Perhaps she embarrassed him by ogling. He’s always terse when she teases him. Not for the first time, she thinks he needs to loosen up. She doesn’t mention that, though. What she does is lean on the handrail to stare up at the dark sky. There’s no light, no distraction, and the result is more stars than she’s ever seen. It’s stunning, beautiful. She suddenly feels very small.

The rail shifts as Richard joins her. Despite the bickering, he’s close enough that his shirt sleeve brushes her bare arm. Goosebumps break out and she has to suppress a shiver. And the urge to lean against him. She wonders if this was a good idea, but there’s no way she’s leaving now.

“No,” he says and she blinks.

“No, what?”

“You’re right – I don’t know you. I… should, shouldn’t I? By now.”

Camille turns that over in her mind, considering her response. She never used to temper her answers, but he’s taught her that just blurting things out isn’t always the best approach.

“You know some things,” she allows, because it’s true. “You just need to think about them.”

Richard _hm_ s, not sounding at all sure about that fact. “I’m not that self-centred, you know.”

She smiles. “I know. You’re just English.”

“Isn’t that just as bad?”

Now she does lean against him. Oddly, he makes no complaint but shifts a little to accommodate her weight. She glances sideways to find him watching her, still impossible to read and she wishes she knew what he’s thinking. Wishes she knew what to say to get through to him.

“I… like it,” she ventures. It’s like stepping onto shale in bare feet, where every step needs to be slow and careful, and she’s afraid of the sharper edges that might lurk beneath. “And I like you.”

Richard sighs. She expects a rebuttal, but it doesn’t come. His fingers clasp and unclasp, twitching as he figures out how to respond. The fact she’s a puzzle he needs to solve is both a compliment and an insult.

“I… I’m glad you came,” he says and she smothers a giggle.

“Go on,” she teases and puts a hand over his. “ _Say_ it. I promise you that the world won’t end.”

He looks at her, that curious half smile curving his mouth. “It might.”

“Richard…”

“Camille.” Her heart jumps at the way he says her name. “All right, I like you, too. Now did you actually want me to teach you how to use the telescope or was that a poor excuse to get me alone in the dark?”

It’s half and half, but she wouldn’t admit that even under pain of death. “Oh, because you really hate showing off how clever you are! Come on, then, Richard. How do you drive this thing?”

Her irritation lasts until he’s positioned her and run through the basics, because once she catches the sparkling ribbon of the Milky Way all she can feel is wonder. Between the sights and his soft commentary, she’s utterly lost, engrossed. When his hand touches her shoulder, there’s a shock of how cold she’s become.

“You’ve been standing still too long,” Richard tells her. “Which is partly my fault.”

“I don’t mind.” Or she didn’t until she straightens. Her back muscles clench. She hisses at the pain. “Oh, _ow_.”

“Here.” He guides her to the rail and then her hands to the smooth wood. “Roll your shoulders.”

Camille arches her back, trying to release the tension. “I guess moving around every so often is recommended.”

“I’m sorry, that was inconsiderate of me. But you seemed to be enjoying yourself so much.”

“I was. I’ll be all right in a moment.”

“I… Oh, sod it.” His hands settle on her back, just below the shoulder blades. The heat of his skin passes through the thin cotton of her top, scorching her and yet leaving her shivering. “Relax.”

 _Easier said than done_ , she thinks. His thumbs draw slow circles, digging in just enough to ease out the knots. She groans in pleasure. Who knew he’d be so good at massage?

“A little further down,” she pleads. He moves his hands, though there’s no rush to it. She whimpers as his right one finds the worst spot. “There.”

“I know, I can feel it.”

Halfway between the pain of cramping muscles and the delirious pleasure of Richard’s hands on her back, Camille thinks there was the slightest undertone to that comment. She can’t think, though.

“Hmm, that is _really_ good. Where on Earth did you learn that?”

“That’d be telling.” His voice is low and that is definitely a suggestive note. “And then I’d have to kill you.”

He’s doing a good job of that anyway. “I… oh God.”

“You are very tense, Camille. I thought you French were more relaxed. After all, you are usually the one telling me to loosen up.”

“Oh…” She can’t even summon an argument. “Shut up.”

“Great come back.” Richard moves his hands down to her waist. “I’m withered.”

“You’re something,” she mutters.

“Thank you.”

“That’s not what I-- Oh, that is _not_ fair!” A well-timed thumb against the pressure in her lumber area has disarmed her. “Don’t you dare stop.”

He doesn’t, though she freezes when his hand slips beneath her top; that moment of flesh-on-flesh contact stealing her breath. If he notices, he gives no indication but returns to rubbing the tightest spot in her back.

Camille lets herself relax. She trusts him, and he really is very good at what he’s doing. Of course, she’s also aware that he’s closer to her now and that it’s only his right hand that’s working – the left is on her hip, his thumb drawing a semi-circle back and forth in a gentle caress. She releases the rail and straightens slowly. He doesn’t pull away.

Hardly daring to breathe, she leans into his touch. There’s a brief hesitation, his right hand going still, the left tensing on her hip, but then motion returns. She closes her eyes and lets her head find his shoulder.

His body is a hard, taut line against hers, but he’s still not backing off. She holds her position, letting him find his own way, not rushing anything. It’s possibly the hardest thing she’s ever done, but as the tension ebbs, she knows it’s worth her while.

His left hand is on her abdomen now. His right seems to have forgotten what it was doing and is trailing the length of her arm. His breathing is heavy in her ear. She turns her head, just a little; a nudge in the right direction, she hopes.

She gets it right and his lips brush her forehead. She forgets how to breathe. In that moment, maybe the world does end. It certainly feels like it stops. She opens her eyes and looks at him. Damn the dark, because she can’t see his expression and how the hell is she supposed to know anything when–

“Camille?”

He is going to kill her. “Yes?”

“Yes?”

A soft laugh escapes her, because she knows what he’s asking even if he can’t actually voice the question. She also knows her answer. “Definitely.”

“Good,” Richard murmurs. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

His mouth covers hers. It’s more confident than she’s dreamed. Massage isn’t the only talent he’s been hiding, because damn. She twists round, sliding a hand over his shoulder as he cups her cheek and deepens the kiss.

Every pass gets longer, hungrier, more demanding. His fingers thread into her hair, his other hand is low on her back. She’s fitted tight against him, close enough to become very aware of the effect she’s having on him.

 _Very definitely yes_ , she thinks and untangles herself. She does need to breathe. “Wait,” she requests and he goes still. “That is not a no, it’s a wait.”

“There’s a difference?”

Camille glares at him, but there’s not enough light for him to see it. “I doubt this hard and very sandy veranda is where you really want to be for this.”

“Ah. No, not really.” His hand finds hers. “Would you come in, then?”

“Isn’t that my line?”

“Camille.”

She giggles. “Sorry. French.”

“Don’t I know it?”

“You love it really.”

Richard gives a soft chuckle and shoves the door to the bungalow open. Inside is lit by candlelight. Camille gives herself all of five seconds to be annoyed at his presumption before being delighted by it.

“Fool that I am, I do,” he says and she’s pulled inside and the door bangs closed and then…

She sees stars all over again.


End file.
